


12 Days of Destiel

by PuddinPop



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 12 Days of Destiel, Alcohol, Allergies, Angel allergies are cute tho?, But Not Much, Christmas Presents, Christmas Time, Cuddling, Dean Loves Cas, Dean finds Cas after kicking him out of the bunker, Dean/Cas first kiss, Destiel - Freeform, Fluff, Human!Castiel - Freeform, Illness, It's like an advent calendar, Kissing, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker, Minor Illness, No he really does, Platonic Destiel, Sam Ships It, Schmoop, Sick!Dean, Smut, Sneezing, Snowball Fights, Snuggling, Some angst, but not really, christmas trees, drunk!Cas, drunk!Dean, drunk!Sam, giftfic, graceless!cas, hand holding, human!Cas, it's Supernatural how could there not be angst, pure fluff, self indulgent nonsense, sick!Cas, sickfics, there's some AU in here too
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-12
Updated: 2015-12-22
Packaged: 2018-05-06 09:03:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5410937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PuddinPop/pseuds/PuddinPop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of 13 short Christmas-themed Destiel fics.</p><p>1. Mistletoe<br/>2. Tree<br/>3. Snow<br/>4. Surprise<br/>5. Coat<br/>6. Gift<br/>7. Drinks</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mistletoe

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BlackCatRunning](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackCatRunning/gifts).



> So, I took the whole 12 days of Christmas thing and did this with it. 
> 
> I wanted to give BlackCatRunning something really spectacular for Christmas and seeing as she yanked me into the Destiel trashcan, I wanted to repay her somehow~
> 
> I plan to gift a fic to BlackCatRunning every day in the run up to Christmas, ending with something a little more substantial on Christmas day.
> 
> Obviously, all of these are going to be Destiel, some more established than others but we shall see where this takes me ;DD
> 
> And, finally, I just want to say Merry Christmas, BlackCatRunning, you are amazing and I love you and I hope this gift is something you will adore <3

"'m jus sayin that she- she had it comin. Trust me."  
  
"Dean, you're drunk." Sam folded his arms across his chest, feeling  _once again_  like a petulant parent scolding their rogue teenage kid for coming home drunk after sneaking out.  
  
"Yeah, well, you're not so pull up a pew. We gotta change that." Dean slurred into his bottle as he pulled up a bar stool next to him, almost knocking Cas off of his as he did so.  
  
"Dean, no. We're meant to be working, remember?" Sam flung a newspaper down on the bar in front of Dean, causing the older hunter to jerk back almost comically, forcing him to slap his hands down atop the bar to prevent himself from falling backwards. The paper was just some blah blah blah about some psycho killer vampire werewolf succubus alien spiders or some shit that were killing everyone in town. Dean didn't care; it was the holiday season. They never got any time off and for once, just fucking once in his life, he wanted to celebrate without some serious shit coming their way and ruining it. Just for  _one night_  he wanted to get drunk, eat crappy bar snacks, watch some sports on the TV and forget about the horror show that was his life. Though Cas definitely helped. Especially when he was tipsy. He wasn't really much of a laugh but he was good company. And that's all that Dean really cared for, sober or not.  
  
Dean just grumbled indecipherable ramblings into his bottle as he swatted the paper away, taking a long swig before setting the empty bottle back down on the bar and holding up 3 fingers to the barmaid, signaling to get another round of drinks for all of them.  
  
"Lighten up, Sam. It's Christmas. Get into the spirit." Realising his own accidental joke, Dean nudged Sam in the ribs with his elbow, passing him a small glass of whiskey which he hadn't gotten around to drinking yet. "Ha.  _Spirit._ Get it?" Dean grinned at his brother as he continued to jibe him, looking to Cas for commiseration but was only met with a stony stare. Sam let out a huffed laugh which was more a sound of defeat than humour but he pulled up the stool and sat down next to his brother regardless just as the barmaid returned with their drinks.  
  
As the hours ticked by and the alcohol flowed, the tension between them lifted. For the first time in a long time, all of them were happy; there was laughing, joking, taunts aimed at Cas and he even managed to come back with a quipped remark about Dean that almost made Sam fall to the floor with laughter. Dean had been pissed to begin with but he soon laughed along with brother, reveling in the moment. It appeared as though Dean had been granted his wish - there was not one mention of any kind of case work, monster, ghoul, demon or anything else supernatural the entire time that they were there and for those short hours, they were just regular guys getting hammered in a bar.  
  
They all knew it was getting late - or early, depending which pedantic way it was looked at - but the truth was that none of them wanted to leave. If they could have stayed in that moment forever, then all of them would have opted to do just that. Because leaving meant returning to the atrocity that was their lives; hunting, killing, wars, bloodshed and pain. It was all awaiting for them just outside the doors of the bar and the thought of it was what had kept them all inside this long. But when the barmaid rang the bell for last orders, all of their stares met, eyes glassed and weary from the alcohol and trepidation.  
  
"Alright, party's over. C'mon." Dean spoke up, taking charge of the situation as he usually did. If he didn't, they would have sat there until someone physically forced them outside. Which wouldn't have taken long if the leather-clad skin heads in the corner were anything to go by. Staggering down from the stool, Dean swayed a little before steadying himself, making a mental note to make coffee when they got back to their motel. Sam and Cas followed suit, both looking equally as unsteady on their feet as they stood. Watching the three of them stumble to the door was like watching Bambi on ice, practically skidding and sliding all over the place. Cas even stumbled into the Christmas tree that was perched in the corner, eliciting a round of wicked laughs from both brothers - much to Cas's dismay.  
  
Upon finally reaching the heavy, wooden doors, decorated elaborately with wreaths, tinsel and stencil snowflakes, Sam pushed against them, propping them open with his large moose body as his brother and the angel followed him out into the snow. Dean staggered out first, shortly followed by Cas who appeared to stop halfway out of the door. His eyes were raised upwards, seemingly squinting up at something above the door. Sam tracked his gaze while Dean was blissfully unaware that they had stopped and had continued walking ahead.  
  
"What.. is that? I have not seen it before." Cas' eyes remained fixated, as though what he had seen was the most mysterious and beautiful object he had ever laid eyes on. Upon following his line of vision, Sam noted the branch that was hung above the doorway. Thick, green leaves hung downwards, white berries nestled between them. Dean had noticed that he had been walking alone and had managed to lumber his way back to the other two, confused and a little annoyed about being held up.  
  
"It's mistletoe, Cas," Sam said with a smile, seemingly amused by the angels obliviousness. The conversation had piqued Dean's interest but his attention was predominantly focused on keeping himself upright. He still joined Sam with a slight smile, however, at Cas's expression.  
  
"Why is it hung up there? Should it not be in a vase?"  
  
"It's just tradition, I guess." Sam just shrugged it off as Cas continued to squint at him cynically. Cas wasn't fond of any Christmas traditions from hanging stockings to decorating trees - they weren't sure if it was due to his status as an angel or whether it was something else entirely, but the fact was that Castiel basically hated everything to do with the holiday. An idea struck Sam suddenly, a little lightbulb practically appearing above his head. He shuffled over to Dean, nudging him in the ribs in the same manner as Dean had done to him earlier that evening, directing his eyes towards Cas and back to his brother.  
  
"Hey, Dean, why don't you show Cas what the actual tradition is with mistletoe?"  
  
Cas just cocked his head, eyeing the brothers with bemusement before looking back up to plant once more. It looked similar to meadowsweet, so maybe it had some strange kind of medicinal benefits or was used for spells of some kind. But he was genuinely curious and Sam had just aggravated his curiosity even more.  
  
Sam had been watching Cas's reaction and now turned to look at his brother, a smug, wry smile spread across his face. He wasn't sure exactly what he was expecting - the whole thing was said in jest as an attempt to squick his brother out, provoke a dramatic reaction of grossed outed-ness. But that is not what he got. No, sir. What he got was his brother staring into space for a moment as though contemplating before he pulled the corners of his mouth down in a shrugging motion and lurched over so he was stood directly before Cas - under the mistletoe.  
  
In the space of a few seconds, Dean slapped his hand against the back of Cas's neck and pulled him in towards his own face, crushing their lips together a little too abruptly. Dean really went the whole nine yards, closing his eyes and breathing heavily but keeping his mouth shut - and for that, Sam was thankful. He was still pretty mortified though, being rendered unable to do anything but watch on in horror, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. He hadnt expected Dean to actually  _do it_. World's most spectacular backfire. Good going, Winchester.  
  
Cas, meanwhile, just stood motionless, eyes wide and staring at Dean as their lips crushed together, the softness of Deans lips providing a strangely sanctifying juxtaposition against the brisk roughness of his stubble. The shock caused his pulse to quicken, causing him to forget to breathe, meaning that Cas just held his breath the entire time Dean's mouth was pressed against his.  
  
Only a few seconds passed before Dean pulled away, smiling smugly to his brother as he swiped the back of his hand against his mouth. He began to walk away but stopped mid-stride, turning back to face Cas, pointing a finger to the angel and then to the mistletoe, his smile growing wider by the second.  
  
"Now...  _that_  is the tradition of mistletoe." Dean turned back to face his brother, unable to dampen the smile that was now illuminating his entire face. "Let's grab some food. Y'hungry?"  
  
_Not any more_ , Sam mouthed under his breath, but he followed Dean regardless, trying to get the mental image out of his mind. He just hoped that he had consumed enough alcohol that it would selectively wipe the image out of his mind and he wouldn't remember when he woke.  
  
Cas remained frozen under the mistletoe for a short time after the brothers began walking away, seemingly lost and dazed by what had just happened. It was all so sudden, so abrupt, so... pleasant? He had to admit to having enjoyed the contact with Dean and as discreetly as he could, Cas reached up and plucked the mistletoe from where it hung, sliding it into the inside pocket of his coat. He had to remember to stick it somewhere unavoidable for Dean when they got back to the motel. Despite his Biblical hesitancies towards the holiday, this was definitely a Christmas tradition that he could accept.


	2. Tree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean wants to give Sam and Cas the best Christmas. Cas's skepticism about the entire holiday is difficult enough to contend with but it's manageable. Just when things are starting to look up, something comes along which could jeopardise the whole thing...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's day 2 and this is part 2! 
> 
> I have to admit that these prompts did come from longer ones but I've dwindled most - if not all - of them down into single words (for my own laziness if nothing else).
> 
> I really hope you like this, BCR! <3

“Will you quit with the pouty face? This is meant to be fun.”  
  
It was a few days before Christmas and Dean had dragged Cas a couple of hours out of town to buy a Christmas tree. Call him childish, but Dean loved Christmas. He always had and this was the first year that they all had some kind of residence to celebrate in that wasn’t some cheap, crappy motel room. They had a chance to celebrate like a normal family with decorations, baking and a tree. So forgive him for being pedantic, but everything had to be perfect. And if that meant driving a couple of hours to get a perfect tree then so be it.  
  
Cas, however, was not so excited. He huddled into the space between the passenger seat and the door, folding his arms across his chest and sulking spectacularly. Christmas had always been something which eluded him completely. Jesus hadn’t even been born anywhere near this time of year, for a start, and none of the humans who were apparently celebrating his birth had ever met him. It seemed like an idiotic, materialistic, selfish perception of people who wanted any excuse to lavish each other with elaborate gifts and take some time off work. Most of them who celebrated the holiday didn’t even believe in Jesus anyway. Completely injudicious.  
  
“I still don’t understand why I had to come.” Cas made no attempt to hide his disdain. He was cold, tired and in a generally shitty mood. They had better things to be doing – like trying to find out where Metatron had hidden his grace – than shopping for holiday treats.  
  
“I need you here. You can perch on top and see which one fits you the best,” Dean smirked, his eyes flitting between the angel and the road, unable to hide his enjoyment from Cas’s sulking. The weight of everything they were dealing with was enormous and Christmas like a temporary hiatus from the impendence of what was to come. Of course, finding Cas’s grace was of top priority, but just taking a few days out to focus on some fun seemed like a good idea, one which Dean wasn’t going to let go of so readily.  
  
Cas didn’t respond to Dean’s mockery; instead he just huffed petulantly whilst glancing back out the window, his thoughts drawn back to his deteriorating condition. By the time they had arrived at… wherever the hell they were, Cas had found that most – if not all – of his animosity had drained away, no longer feeling irritated or bitter. It may have just been from the fatigue which had encompassed him or the fact that he had somehow managed to fall asleep somewhere along the way but it didn’t really matter. He tried to focus on how much this meant to Dean; perhaps he had been too harsh with the hunter previously, disregarding what was important to Dean, not just himself. He had been so enraptured in his own condition recently that he had almost lost sight of other’s needs and wants.  
  
“This is the place,” Dean muttered, so quietly that he could have been talking to himself. Cas just gawped out of the window as the car rolled to a stop, eyeing the rows and rows of trees that adorned either side of the road. Some were decorated with flashing lights, some with brightly coloured tassled material and some were just… well, practically dead, their needles splayed out across the ground beneath them. He was admittedly underwhelmed by what he saw but the glistening awe in Dean’s eyes was impossible to ignore and Cas found himself smiling along with Dean as they finally pulled up.  
  
Stepping out of the car, Cas stretched, arching his back and straightening his arms and legs; the position he had been huddled in against the door of the Impala apparently having been not the most comfortable one. He really hoped Dean had been joking about perching atop a tree; he didn’t think his bones would be up to such a challenge. Contending with an absence of Grace was seriously taking its toll on him and whilst he wasn't entirely human, more and more traits were becoming more humane within him. Things like muscle aches, fatigue and reflexes; things which had never bothered him before.  
  
They had only walked a handful of steps amidst the trees, fresh snow crunching beneath their feet when he felt it; a niggling, burning sensation that seemed to be a pencil-point deep inside his nose. Swiping a sleeved arm across his nose in an attempt to rid himself of the sensation, Cas almost stumbled as he scrunched his eyes shut whilst rubbing quite viciously across his bridge. Dean was a few steps ahead, the distance between them becoming greater as the hunter was apparently too enraptured in surveying each and every tree, determined to find the ‘right one’. The rubbing provided little-to-no alleviation; if anything, the sensation only blossomed, forcing Cas’s breath to waver slightly behind the fabric of his coat. He had stopped walking completely now, the effort of simultaneously walking and fending off the foreign sensation being too complex to handle. Dean was still ahead, not noticing Cas lagging behind until he said something to the angel and failed to get a response.  
  
Turning around suddenly, Dean saw Cas standing motionless, arm draped across his face, his countenance pinched tightly in what looked to be a pained expression. Cas’s eyes were now tightly closed, meaning he failed to see Dean approaching; he didn’t even notice a hand on his shoulder until he heard a familiar low rumble and the word “Cas?” be uttered. Dean was talking to him, but the expanding irritation inside his skull made it impossible to focus on anything but that, it seemingly taking control of his entire body; his breathing, his increasing heart rate, his muscles, even the spasms of his nostrils and the parting of his lips were out of his control.  
  
Just when he thought the sensation was going to force his skull to implode in on itself, Cas’s breath caught with one final  _“hhih-!!”_  before he was launched forwards with a violent “ _hi’KSSHHh’iu!_ ” The brunt of it was fired off into the crook of Cas’s elbow, which was still smothering his face and whilst it felt monumentally relieving, the overwhelming feeling tided up inside his nose once more, forcing him forwards into his elbow again a second later with another  _“hh-TDSCHh-! ‘TCCH’iuh!”_  
  
“Cas? Hey, y’alright man?.” Dean’s fingers gripped Cas’s bicep as he tried to steady the angel through the random attack of… sneezes? Pretty fucking random. Cas rarely blinked, never mind sneezed. Dean’s eyes were wide and fixated on Cas, his pulse thrumming a little quicker than was normal. After a few terse seconds, Cas lowered his arm to reveal slightly reddened, streaming eyes coupled with an equally reddened, streaming nose. Definitely not his best look. The angel’s bright, damp eyes widened and locked on to Dean, a look of sheer bewilderment readable across his entire countenance.  
  
"Was that... normal?" Cas's expression remained transfixed into one of uncertainty, clearly borderline terrified by what had just happened.  
  
“For humans, yeah, but... That's never happened before?” It was impossible to keep the concern out of his voice as he refused to take his eyes away from Cas, scrutinizing him intently. Dean had never heard Cas sneeze before but that wasn’t to say he never had. Maybe angels did sneeze when they were riding meat suits? Maybe they sneezed anyway, even without a host? …did angels even have noses?  
  
Dean was roused out of his thoughts when he saw Castiel shake his head, sniffling lightly against the hem of his coat sleeves which he had now brought up and had it rested beneath his nose.  
  
“No. Never. And it was… unpleasant.” Cas spoke solemnly – as always – congestion becoming detectable in his voice. He rubbed the roughened edge of his coat across his entire face, mopping up the residual moisture that was staining his cheeks and upper lip.  
  
“Hey.” Dean spoke softly as he tugged against Cas’s arm, pulling it away from his face. “Don’t do that. Here.” He rummaged around in his jacket sleeve for a second before producing a small wad of napkins that he had pocketed from the diner they visited earlier that day. Cas took them but just held them in his hands, the bewilderment returning as he looked back to Dean for instruction. Dean just cocked a smile and rolled his eyes a little; Cas’s clueless-about-humanity routine was something which never became any less endearing the more he did it. If anything, it became more adorable each time he found some new confusion in etiquette.  
  
“Hold them here. And blow. You’ll feel better.” Dean guided Cas’s hands up to his nose before letting go; he wasn’t about to hold them to Cas’s face himself. They were close, but not  _that_  close. Dean averted his gaze as Cas did as instructed, a thick, struggling sound emanating from him. Once he was finished, Dean looked back to the angel, suppressing a smile at his appearance of a red nose and sulky expression.  
  
“You good to go? What was that, just some random, freak thing?”  
  
Dean’s knowledge on both angel and human biology was clearly starting to show. Cas just sniffed as though testing the air, checking that his nose was still working properly; it wasn’t.  
  
“I.. I don’t know. My eyes burn a little. Everything feels itchy-“  
  
Cas was cut abruptly short when Dean scurried next to him, draping an arm across his shoulders and ushering him forwards.  
  
“Ah, you’re probably just tired. You can grab an hour on the ride back. Now, c’mon. Let’s find that tree.” Dean was already weaving Cas in an out between the branches of pine trees, needles dislodging and drifting lazily to the ground beneath them before being crunched into the snow by their boots. He had clearly dismissed Cas's outburst in favour of finding a tree, which was a little irritating for Castiel but also quite relieving; if Dean wasn't concerned then he saw no reason to be concerned either.  
  
As they walked, Cas watched the needles fall and felt that unfamiliar sensation begin to blossom inside his head once again. Everything was suddenly just so itchy yet unreachable, like a limb falling asleep, being rendered helpless until it dissipated. And how Cas wished it would just dissipate. It was relentless, just constantly itching, itching, itching, expanding inside of him, causing his eyes to spill over, his breath to quicken and hitch as his pulse started to race. He began to stumble, trying to keep up with Dean but struggling against his rebellious eyes which seemed adamant on closing despite Cas’s reluctance to let them do so. As he bumbled around, he kept shouldering trees, dislodging more of the needles, causing them to fall down the back of his shirt, into his coat sleeves and in his shoes. He could feel them prickling the outer surface of his skin, and momentarily wondered if he had managed to get any of them inside his nose; the feeling against his skin was parallel to the expanding irritation in his nose.  
  
Cas only managed a couple more steps before he staggered against one of the trees, bracing his arm against one of the branches for support before he was launched into a violent  _“hh-TDZSH’iu’!”_ The relief that accompanied the cataclysm was great but momentary. Before he could even open his eyes to more than slits, Cas felt the sensation rise exponentially and his entire top half was crunched downwards with more harsh sounding sneezes.  
  
 _“hi’KTSCHh’uh!-TSSCHh’! ih’TDZSShh’!”_  
  
Cas was vaguely aware of a firm grasp against his shoulder as his body wracked him with sneeze after sneeze. He tried to open his eyes to look at whatever it was that was gripping him but found himself unable between expulsions, being rendered helpless to do anything except fire off sneezes into his elbow.  
  
“Cas?  _Cas!_  Y’alright? C’mon, man, y’gotta breathe!”  
  
The voice was familiar to Castiel but he was too enraptured in the throes of the sneezing fit to acknowledge it. It was only when he could feel his breath wheezing and scraping against his chest on each exhale that he felt the hands (he assumed they were hands; he also assumed the voice to be Dean's) begin to force him back the way they had come. Cas continued to sneeze and gasp for breath between each one as Dean ushered him back to the car with almost militant precision. It was lucky, really, given that Cas couldn’t see beyond the haze of tears that flooded his eyes.  
  
Once back at the car, Cas’s sneezing had died down to intermittently every minute or so. It wasn’t inspiring much confidence within Dean but it was a vast improvement from barely breathing between each one. Dean had seen Sam suffer enough allergic reactions in the past to spot one when it happened and Cas had every warning sign; relenting sneezing fits, red, watering eyes, complaints of itching everywhere, wheezing breath. And given that it was serious enough to get to his chest so quickly, Dean concluded that there would probably be some sort of skin reaction somewhere if he had come into contact with whatever it was that was causing this. And Dean had a pretty good idea what it was and it fucking sucked.  
  
Cas just sat still, allowing Dean to practically manhandle him as he wheezed for breath, the relief at being away from where they were being almost overwhelming. He allowed Dean to swipe his jacket sleeve across his face, wiping away the residual tear streaks that stained his cheeks as he sniffled into his own coat. He looked to Dean, eyes wide and confused.  
  
“Dean? What… what just happened?” Cas’s voice was thick and heavy with congestion, higher in pitch from the wheezing. Dean didn’t respond at first, his eyes cold and focused on the task in hand – which was cleaning up Cas’s face. He still said nothing as he fumbled around in the glove compartment, finally pulling out a bottle of pills.  
  
“Dean..?”  
  
Staying in silence once more, Dean tipped a couple of pills into his hand and passed them to Cas along with a bottle of water which he had stored in his door. He flicked the keys into the ignition and started the hum of the engine, reversing the car to leave the tree lot. Cas just watched the hunter with incredulous eyes, confused and a little hurt at being ignored so spectacularly.  
  
“Dean? Where are we-“  
  
“You had an allergic reaction, Cas. We need to get you outta here.”  
  
The statement did nothing to alleviate Cas’s perplexion as Dean spoke in a hollow, stony voice. It was all he could do to keep his annoyance at the situation out of his tone. Not that he was annoyed  _with_  Cas, but-… dammit, he had really wanted to celebrate Christmas properly this year.  
  
“Allergic..? What to-?” Dean cut Cas off once more, yanking back his coat sleeve to reveal tiny, angry-looking red blemishes up his arm. Now that he had seen them, Cas found that he instinctively wanted to scratch and suddenly his entire skin felt like it was crawling. He reached a hand across, scratching against the surface of his skin until Dean pulled it back.  
  
“I’m no doctor, but I’d say you’re allergic to pine trees. You not had this reaction before?” Dean flitted his eyes between the road and Cas, trying to examine as much of the angel as he could whilst driving. Cas just solemnly shook his head, sneezing twice into his coat sleeve before sniffling miserably, eliciting a slight groan on the exhale.  
  
There was a terse silence between them both as they drove, aside from the sporadic sneezing, sniffling and coughing coming from the passenger seat but as the antihistamines took effort, they started becoming less and less frequent. Though they were making the angel drowsier and drowsier the more miles they put behind them.  
  
After passing the 100 mile mark, Cas was slumped against the passenger door, huddled in on himself. He was only half conscious but managed to mumble out “I’m sorry, Dean,” into his jacket, which was permanently pressed to his nose. The tablets had helped a lot but they could only do so much and Cas was plagued with a continually runny nose, having torn through all the tissues they had in the car.  
  
“What for?” Dean didn’t even look to Cas, his eyes remaining focused and forwards on the road. It was dark and despite wanting to prevent them from crashing, Dean was also pretty soured by the whole situation. Not that Dean was one to hold a grudge, but he had really,  _really_  wanted this Christmas to be perfect. For Cas and Sam more than himself; he felt like this was the first year that he was spending the holiday with his entire family and having something coming along and sullying that just turned his stomach. Why couldn’t he be allergic to rabbits or something else as irrelevant as that?  
  
Cas just continued to sniffle into his sleeve and had he not have just sneezed, Dean might have thought that the angel was crying.  
  
“For… because you can’t get a tree. I ruined it for you.” Cas’s voice was weighted down by congestion and sleep, which made the words tug at Dean’s heart even more. He visibly softened in his seat, looking over to Cas and privately smiling to himself before patting a hand atop Cas’s shoulder. “I can leave, if you-.. I understand.”  
  
This made Dean tighten his grip on Cas, a gesture of reassurance masking annoyance. How could Cas think that Dean would want him to go anywhere? It had taken them long enough to even be together as a family now, there was no way Dean was going to let something as trivial as not being able to have a freaking Christmas tree ruin it.  
 

“Nah. S’fine Cas, honestly. We can just get a fake one. But I swear to god, if you’re allergic to plastic, I’m gonna perch you on top of it myself.” Despite the seriousness to his tone, Cas sensed that Dean was smiling, which forced him to half-heartedly to smile to himself as he huddled further into the door. Dean’s compassion reigned champion over his other less favourable symptoms, causing him to finally fall into a peaceful slumber despite the contrasting irritation still prevalent in his skull.


	3. Snow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel had watched Dean that particular morning – as he always did – rise from his bed and saunter over to the window. He had watched the hunter scrape the sleep away from his eyes with the back of wrist, watched him yawn lazily against his palm as he blinked away the last lingering fog of the previous night’s sleep. They stood wordlessly next to each other, their shoulders practically leaning into one another as Cas watched Dean’s eyes brighten, a tiny smile creep its way across his face, becoming wider and wider the longer he gazed at the tranquility of the falling snow until his lips parted to boast his perfect teeth.

Castiel had seen snow before; he spent most of his time previously away from the Winchesters in the snow-covered lands of Ukraine or Finland. It wasn’t something new for him to witness but it was never something which he had the pleasure of observing first-hand. Whenever snow had fallen, he had watched it from Heaven or when he was incorporeal. Watching each flake fall from behind the misted window of the motel room was something new, more personal and definitely more awe-inspiring. He had never contemplated that it was anything other than any other kind of weather; he was aware that humans had varying opinions on all climates, ranging from despair at rain to comfort in warmth. Wind was an aggravation whereas droughts were potentially fatal. He had always considered the weather to be a determining factor on a human’s mindset, their mood for that moment. But he had never considered the impact it had on a certain hunter.

Castiel had watched Dean that particular morning – as he always did – rise from his bed and saunter over to the window. He had watched the hunter scrape the sleep away from his eyes with the back of wrist, watched him yawn lazily against his palm as he blinked away the last lingering fog of the previous night’s sleep. They stood wordlessly next to each other, their shoulders practically leaning into one another as Cas watched Dean’s eyes brighten, a tiny smile creep its way across his face, becoming wider and wider the longer he gazed at the tranquility of the falling snow until his lips parted to boast his perfect teeth. And if that wasn’t the strangest thought Castiel had had, he wasn’t sure what was.  
  
The snow had come down thick and heavy the previous night – Cas had watched it all, not needing to sleep and everything – and it was now a couple of feet deep. Cas calculated that it would pass his knee should he venture outside. Which he had absolutely no intention of doing. Everything that they had contended with recently had really sapped his energy levels, leaving them dwindling, forcing his body to practically beg for rest. It was a stark juxtaposition really, that no matter how much his vessel screamed for him to rest, he couldn’t sleep no matter how hard he tried. He could feel his Grace inside him, dim and weak, as though it was a battery powered appliance that was running rapidly out of juice. He needed to recharge, he knew that, but to venture up to Heaven now and leave the hunters when they were so close to cracking this case seemed injudicious.  
  
Cas was startled back to the present by Dean shifting beside him, green eyes – almost frenzied – locking onto steel blue. The excitement within the older hunter would have been detectable from Mars but standing directly beside Dean meant that Cas could see Dean physically trembling with elation. Dean practically vibrated back to his bed and started pulling on his clothes. Cas actually hadn’t noticed that Dean was only sporting a tight shirt and a pair of boxers (which was kind of unnerving, given how much Cas’s observations of the hunter had proliferated recently) and he felt himself swallow audibly against-.. was his throat sore? Huh. That was pretty unsettling, not to mention inconvenient. But before he could dwell on the sudden altercation in his vessel’s status, his attention was drawn back across the room as he heard a loud noise emanating from one of them.  
  
Dean had apparently thrown something at Sam – an item of clothing, by the looks of things – and awoken him. The younger hunter hadn’t taken it too kindly and was swearing profanities at his brother. There was a time when profanities and blasphemy bothered Castiel, but spending so much time with the Winchesters had taught him to switch off from it and it barely even registered with him anymore. It was like a second natural language. He had enough trouble translating English to Enochian and back to English without having to dwell on whether a certain phrase or stance was offensive to his Father or not. He had just come to accept that most things said in anger by the Winchesters was blasphemous somehow and ignored it. Not that his Father would likely care anyway. He hadn’t seemed to care all that much for Castiel or his brethren recently.  
  
“C’mon, Rip Van Winkle, get up! Come look outside!”  
  
The tone in Dean’s voice was alien to Castiel. It made him sound much younger than his years, almost care-free and… happy? Cas was hardly prolific at reading human emotions, having never felt them himself, but there was definitely something within Dean’s voice that took away the edge of seriousness and occasional ruination. It wasn’t that Cas had never seen Dean happy – there had been several instances where they had finished a case and saved someone or he had won on a scratch card or had managed to find the only free parking space – but this appeared to be different somehow. This seemed deeper, more genuine. Like whatever was making Dean feel this way was the most important thing to him right now. Cas still couldn’t fathom what it was that was having such a sanguine effect on him, but he had concluded it was almost certainly due to the weather. Maybe humans favoured the snow? Castiel had always thought it would be seen as a hindrance; humans never took kindly to cold weather, or wet weather for that matter, so mixing them together didn’t seem like a recipe for a good mood. But what did Castiel know about human behavior? Very little, to say the least. What he had learned over the years had been predominantly from the Winchesters and they weren’t exactly ‘typical’ in human behaviours. But none of that mattered. Dean was currently shirtless. Anything else seemed trivial in comparison right now.  
  
These thoughts had been occurring to Castiel for a little time now. He could pinpoint the exact moment, truthfully. It had been after they had taken down a particularly nasty vampire nest. It ended with Cas breaking his arm, Sam bruising his ribcage and Dean being knocked unconscious in a river. They had managed to pull the older hunter to safety but he had remained in a delirious, concussed state for the remainder of the day and having Sam out of action with his injuries, it had been down to Castiel to strip Dean and get him showered and changed. It was a completely unsolicited and unprovoked reaction; Cas had seen Dean in much more compromising positions previously and he had never been plagued with such thoughts before. But seeing Dean’s naked, wet flesh before him, pimpled from the cold seized Cas’s throat and accentuated his pulse, making his hands clammy and his stomach knot. Little flutters appeared across his chest and lower abdomen, causing him to tremble slightly. He had never had any kind of human emotions raging through him before and knowing practically nothing about them, he had never concluded what they were. It was only when thoughts began to race through his mind that he never even knew he had knowledge about that he considered the possibility of it being intimate thoughts. There had always been a distinct closeness between the angel and the hunter, but Cas had never viewed this as anything more than a platonic intimacy, a mutual respect at having saved one another multiple times. The concept of romance and intimacy was outlandish to the angel; there were no intimate relationships in Heaven, only the adoration for family. Which was more thrusted upon the seraphs as opposed to being a conscious choice.  
  
Castiel was stuck in a position of unknowing; he couldn’t ask Sam, lest he run the risk of being ridiculed and even potentially snubbed and he definitely couldn’t ask Dean for the same reasons and more. What if Dean rejected him? What if he  _didn’t_? What if these sensations that were overcoming Castiel weren’t romantic attraction but something else entirely? He could break Dean’s heart. Not that he was so egocentric that he thought he had the ability to do such a thing but he had to consider all possibilities.  
  
Luckily, Sam roused him from his thoughts – which was lucky really, seeing as Dean had noticed Cas seemingly staring at him while he changed (when in actuality the angel was just pondering on his thoughts) and was eyeing him cynically, one eyebrow cocked as he continued to dress, a little slower as he scrutinized the angel’s expression – when he sprung out of bed and lurched over to the window, pulling back the drapes to reveal the serene landscape. Cas heard Sam mouth  _‘woah’_  under his breath, his face lighting up in a similar way that Dean’s had when he had seen it; not as dramatically, of course. Spinning back around, Sam grabbed his jacket and made his way to the door, shortly followed by Dean who was now suitably dressed and-.. blushing a little? – as he passed Cas on his way to the door.  
  
Cas was just left standing bewildered in the middle of the room, his eyes flitting between where Dean was previously stood and the window which was a harsh, bright contrast against the darkness of the room. He wasn’t confident about what was even happening; were they about to go on another hunt? Would they even be able to drive in this weather? The snow looked too deep to even get the Impala out of the parking lot.  
  
Stopping in the doorway, Dean rested a hand against the frame, spinning his body around so he was facing Cas, his cheeks now their usual colour and eyes back to that widened excitement which they had donned previously.  
  
“Well, what are you waiting for? Come on!” Dean flashed Cas a grin once more before disappearing outside into the frozen landscape.  
  
Cas could hear the brothers shouting things to one another, laughter and taunts being hurled between them. They sounded like… they were enjoying themselves. It relieved Cas somewhat; he was still confused beyond belief about what was even happening – he considered for a moment if he was dreaming or if he had been sent to an alternative universe where they weren’t hunters and nothing evil or supernatural was a threat to them. Maybe he was a human, just like the Winchesters. But twitching his wings, Cas realized that was an exceptionally hopeful outcome. They were in their reality; they were still hunters, he was still an angel and there were still definitely monsters and demons tracking their every move, trying to kill them. But if this weather created a brief, fleeting moment of happiness for them, then Cas was willing to accept that. As confused as he was, he managed a tight smile and followed the brothers outside to the parking lot, blinded momentarily by the sheer brilliance of the snow. His smile continued to expand as he watched the brothers wrestle, apparently attempting to bury one another. It was a strange sensation for Castiel, another feeling which he had not felt before. A warmth spread across his gut, his fingers tingled from more than the cold and his eyes glassed over; he was home. With his family. And right in that moment, nothing else mattered, nothing else existed. Just an angel with his hunters.


	4. Surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It seemed as though the moment he had finally adjusted himself to the resignation of spending his life alone, along comes something which flung everything up in the air, flipping it upside down and making him question every comfort, every certainty he had only just accumulated. He remembered the exact moment that everything in his life was yanked from the foundations of its certitude; it was the first night following that fateful day at the bunker where Dean had sent Cas away with nothing more than the clothes on his back.

December. Definitely Dean’s favourite month. Whenever this time of year came around, Dean always made sure that they were doing a hunt somewhere where there would be snow. There was something about sitting in 80 degree heat in December that felt wrong somehow, the kind of feeling that makes you feel like you’re in the wrong place at the wrong time. He could never settle and often wondered how people in tropical climates survived. If there wasn’t a _crunch crunch crunch_ of snow beneath his boots as he walked then he would never rest.   
  
He wasn’t entirely sure what it was about the month that he loved; whether it was the sharp smell of frost, the way his breath spiraled and danced before his face before dissipating into the atmosphere, the way a blanket of snow purified even the most dismal of landscapes or the fact that Christmas was soon to arrive, followed shortly by his birthday, he was unsure. Dean never enjoyed celebrating these holidays, however; it was the promise of the occasion and the build up to it which he lavished. The days themselves were always a disappointment but the anticipation was always pleasurable. Especially now that he had someone other than Sam to share it with.  
  
It was still a strange concept to Dean; the prospect of a relationship. Even the word carried an air of seriousness and foreign sincerity to it. He had been a part of a few before – most of them fleeting – but he never had considered any of them to be serious enough to warrant the status of 'being in a relationship'. Never once in his life had he considered that one day he would actually be what he considered to be  _in a relationship_ with someone. Cassie had been something which was more serious to her than it was to Dean at the time and Lisa was… well, Lisa was Lisa. Whatever that was. Dean’s crutch, his means of an escape, maybe. That’s how he had always seen her and as hurtful as those words would have been to her, it was how Dean had felt from the second he laid eyes on her. Some may have considered it serious and for a time, maybe Dean did too, but there was always that niggling voice in the back of his head which told him time and time again that it would never last. Relationships were never forever in a hunter’s life; they either ended after the other person got too scared or frustrated with the life he was living or they got killed. However they ended, they were always filled with pain, tears or bloodshed – occasionally, all three. It was a lonely life, one which depressed Dean into a drunken stupor on numerous occasions but one which he had finally resigned himself to. The pain of heartache never kept him awake at night anymore, the crippling loneliness filled with other minor pleasantries of being alive such as whiskey, time with Sam or even music. Since finding the bunker, Dean’s headphones had become his new love; he didn’t know what he would do without them now.   
  
Yet, it seemed as though the moment he had finally adjusted himself to the resignation of spending his life alone, along comes something which flung everything up in the air, flipping it upside down and making him question every comfort, every certainty he had only just accumulated. He remembered the exact moment that everything in his life was yanked from the foundations of its certitude; it was the first night following that fateful day at the bunker where Dean had sent Cas away with nothing more than the clothes on his back. It was the first night that he could remember that he had not been plagued by visions of monsters, demons or despondency. There was just one thing and one thing only that flooded his thoughts, worming its way in to the confines of his mind; it had dark hair, eyes of steel and a long coat. It was an impromptu vision but once it was there, it was impossible to shift. He had tried shuffling around, scrubbing at his eyes in a hope to eradicate – or at least distort – the image within his head but it never even flickered. The image of Cas’s forlorn, broken expression had haunted Dean for the entirety of the night.  
  
Monumental guilt tided over him shortly after the image appeared. It was Dean’s fault that Cas wasn’t here, Dean’s entirely. He had sent the angel away when he needed him the most. Even after every questionable act he had done (and Lord knew there had been many) he didn’t deserve exile. Especially not when he had been stripped of his Grace, only having been mortal for an extremely short time. It was clear that he was still adjusting to the discomfort of losing his celestial abilities, but the thought never crossed Dean’s mind until afterwards. No, he hadn’t deserved this. Not from Dean – or Sam – not from his family. And that’s exactly what they were, whether Dean chose to accept this fact or not. In the short years that Dean had known Castiel, they had been through more together than anyone else he knew, even Sam. The angel had pulled him out of Hell, fought beside him, fought _against_ him, beaten him to a pulp, beaten others to a pulp on his behalf, even killed some, abandoning his mission and his home with the sole intention of staying by Dean’s side. The sacrifices that had been made by the angel were almost beyond comprehension and Dean sometimes selectively forgot how much that Castiel had forfeited for him and him alone; Cas had never done that for Sam, or anyone else. Cas had even gone so far as to kill many of his brothers and sisters – his own family – purely to ascertain Dean’s protection. And if that didn’t make him family, then nothing else would. Dean often snided that Cas took the ‘guard and protect the Righteous Man’ gig too seriously but it was all a veil of insecurity. The truth was that the more that Cas did for Dean, the more his feelings for the other guy expanded, but of course, in typical Dean Winchester fashion, he swathed them with an air of disparity.  
  
He wasn’t sure why he had such a hard time accepting this; maybe it was due to the fact that Sam had been his only family for so long that he had forgotten what it was to have someone else matter to him. Maybe he didn’t like the idea of sharing what he had with others; he had worked damn hard for what shitty life he had, thank you very much. Or maybe it was due to the fact that Dean Winchester was in denial. Denial of his feelings, denial of the prospect of what was budding up inside of him.   
  
He would never admit this to anyone, but the real reason Dean had sent Cas away wasn’t due to the fact that he would be a bright, shining beacon to other angels like Gadreel had insinuated; it was because of the changes he had started to see in himself. The way his stomach butterflied whenever he heard the faint whoosh of air and soft jostle of feathers, the way the tiny hairs on the back of his neck stood to attention whenever the sound of a low, gravely voice reached his ears or the way that he had started becoming increasingly hostile towards the angel. It was never intentional, but Dean was not known for wearing his heart on his sleeve. In fact, if any kind of emotion ever swam his way, he took every precaution to make sure it was hung, drawn and quartered before it even had a chance to settle or bloom into anything potentially meaningful. And whenever Dean started acting hostile towards someone he cared about, that’s when he knew he was in too deep to resurface unscathed.   
  
Dean knew himself; of course he did, he knew himself better than anyone else and he could spot the warning signs when he began to get too attached to something. And he was definitely becoming attached to Castiel in a way which he didn’t feel comfortable. It was a frustrating juxtaposition for the hunter because whilst it appeared that all the begging for someone to come along to share this life with had been rewarded, he couldn’t bring himself to accept it. Barriers had been erected, invisible shields preventing any form of intimacy coming within a 100 yard radius of him. Which is why he had forced Cas out. Not to protect Sam. No, that would have been justifiable, warranted even. The truth was that Dean had sent Cas away to save himself; safe from heartache, safe from humiliation. There was also the tiny concept of rejection. Dean recognized his feelings, knew that he was falling for Cas but he couldn’t determine if it was reciprocal. What if he had acted on his impulse and it had been unrequited? The prospect of handling such degradation was almost as terrifying as forming any kind of intimacy.  
  
But that had been then. Things had happened, things had changed. Things were different now.  
  
After laying awake for the entirety of that night, haunted by images of what was happening to Cas – what Dean had done to Cas – Dean had packed up a few meager items at dawn and driven into the horizon. By the time Sam awoke, Dean was already half way across the state.   
  
Cas had been gone for a good 18 hours which meant that he could be at the State line if he caught public transport. If he had walked, then he wouldn’t be too far away but the surrounding area was a labyrinth of farms and forests. Dean prayed (not for the first time since Cas had left) that he had caught a bus or something. He knew Cas well; he knew exactly where to go, which paths to follow that would lead him to the angel.  
  
It was an unsettling sense to have, almost like a built-in angel tracking system but at that given moment, Dean was more thankful than dissuaded. He had trudged the car onwards, losing miles behind him as the horizon closed in on him before drifting back into the distance once more. The haunting images refused to abate, even now he was fully conscious. Just images, scenarios, all bloody and broken. It caused an ache to spread across Dean’s chest, the knowing of what he had potentially caused eliciting more pain than any physical affliction he had previously sustained. That was the moment that he knew. It made sense what all these previous emotions had been, all the odd little behaviours. It was fucking scary but he could come to terms with it later. Despite it hitting him like a brick to the face, he pressed his foot down harder against the pedal, speeding the Impala down the highway.  
  
After a couple of hours, Dean made it to the bus station, ready and set to go asking around if anyone had seen Cas. There was a picture of the two of them on his phone (from when Sam insisted on capturing their ‘happiest moment in years’ after practically drinking the State dry) which he intended to showcase around in a hope at finding him. There was a slight whiff of reluctance at parading the picture around in the public eye; Dean had an arm around Cas’s shoulders, his forehead resting against Cas’s temple as he laughed, his free arm resting atop Cas’s forearm. The angel was sat stony faced, but he was looking directly into the camera so it was a perfect image to use to try to find him. Dean had stared at this picture for many hours before and the more he looked, the more he was determined that there was a slight pull at the corners of Castiel’s mouth, as though he was restricting a smile. He could have been mistaken but it was something which provided him solace when he needed it. He had been so happy in that moment and each time he thought about it, he hoped that Cas was too. He hoped Cas thought about that moment. 

Pulling the car to a stop outside the bus station, Dean grabbed his phone and exited the car, slamming the door shut behind him as he sauntered across the tarmac, primed and ready for a lot of hours spent searching. He passed a bunch of ragged-looking guys rummaging through the trash to the side of the building. He huddled his coat around himself further, shielding himself from the freezing sleet as he noted that all of them were only donning thin shirts and pants. He was about to enter the bus station when he heard a sound which caught his attention. He couldn’t determine what it was; it sounded a little like a cough but it could have also been just a quick whip of wind. Whatever it was, it had stopped Dean in his tracks, forcing him to look to the side and that’s when he saw it. One of the guys was huddled on the floor next to the dumpster, knees tucked up to his chin, shivering violently. The thick tousles of his hair were plastered down by the weight of the rain, sticking to his forehead in stringed waves. His hands were chapped red from cold, his face hidden beneath his arms. As he approached tentatively, Dean startled a little as the guy’s whole body jerked violently, an _“Eh’kschh!”_ sound dispersing throughout the air once more. It was an identical sound to the one that Dean had heard seconds previously and as he got to within a couple of feet in front of the guy, a jolt of panic shot through Dean’s gut; he didn’t know what it was that made him think this, given that he couldn’t see the face, but if he hadn’t known any better, he would say this was…  
  
“Cas?” He spoke the word with a thin layer of authority, speaking up against the rushing sounds of winter. The second he spoke, the man’s head lifted, steeled eyes peering over the top of his arms, his gaze connecting directly with Dean’s. He had been right. It was Cas.  
  
Dean didn’t know whether to laugh, cry or just collapse into a heap from the confliction. The relief at finding Cas alive and seemingly unhurt was exceptional but the culpability at having been the one to cause him to be here reigned champion over his relief. He didn’t laugh. He didn’t cry either. Nor did he collapse. Instead, he just stood for a moment, staring into those blue, blue eyes, feeling the sleet trickle down his back as the wind bit mercilessly around his hands. Cas also remained unmoving, fixated on the hunter. He tried to speak, but instead was just racked with coughing directed into the curvature of his elbow.   
  
The sound alerted Dean back to reality, snapped himself out of his self-condemnation for long enough to offer out a hand to Cas, wordlessly telling him to come with him. He didn’t think it would be possible to make it up to the angel, but at least he could try. He had to try.   
  
A reluctant hand shook its way up to wrap around Dean’s and the hunter yanked him up to his feet, their icy grips releasing as they practically fell into each other. Cas stumbled forwards against Dean’s chest as the taller man wrapped his arms tightly around the angel. Cas was visibly trembling, his breathing quick and shallow and he shivered against the hunter, not quite managing to wrap his arms around Dean’s waist. His clothes were soaked through, clinging to his skin in sporadic patches. It caused Dean to pull Cas tighter to him, trying to warm him through if nothing else, but mostly, he was just alleviated spectacularly at having found him. It was partly a selfish perception at having not needing to live with the fact that he had caused any pain to come to Cas and also the satisfaction of having him back here for himself. But mostly, he was just thankful that Cas was okay and unhurt – okay, so he was a little cold (which was a desperate understatement) and had clearly had a rough night, but that was fixable. Dean could fix it; he’d make it his mission. If he had been the crying type (which Dean Winchester most definitely _wasn’t_ the crying type) then he would have shed a few tears, allowing them to intermingle with the falling sleet and snow, passing it off as just that. But he wasn’t going to cry; he was going to stand here, embrace the angel, pull backwards a little, cup Cas's pale face between his palms, close his eyes, lean forwards and…  
  
Kiss Cas. _He kissed Cas._  
  
Dean had no idea where the impulse stemmed from but he was sure it was born from a multitude of the realisation of his longings, hours of panicking, the relief at having found him… and just having him back in his arms. It was all he had wanted for all of these hours and now that he had him pressed close to him, he didn’t want to let go. But it hadn’t felt like enough. The closeness they shared during the embrace was fulfilling but seemed exiguous in comparison to what he craved.   
  
He allowed his body to take control, guiding his hands thoughtlessly to cusp the juncture of Cas’s jaw, keeping it in place as his eyes closed and their lips pressed together. It was a moment that felt simultaneously too long and too short; the soft plush of Cas’s lips against the briskness of a missed day’s shaving was addictive and repellent at the same time. It had all happened too quickly for Dean’s body to respond in any way, his hands remaining still and steady, his pulse maintaining a steady rhythm; the only thing that he felt was a gentle warmth pan its way across his chest as he fought against the urge to smile. Dean hadn’t realised how long he had waited to do that until it happened and was reluctant to pull away, but did so before he allowed himself to open his mouth. This was their first kiss, it was best to keep it PG13. Dean lowered his arms from Cas’s face and rested them against his shoulders, his eyes pointing downwards and staring at Cas’s chin as the smile he had repressed during the kiss had now crept its way out, crinkling Dean’s features in a look of pure adoration.  
  
Cas hadn’t reacted to Dean’s gesture; he hadn’t kissed him back but nor had he pulled away. He just stood there, allowing Dean to cradle his face as he kissed him gently. It was more tenderness than the angel had ever seen the hunter emit and he had to admit that it was a fairly sanctifying experience. Despite his lack of knowledge on human behaviour, Cas was aware of what this action meant; he had kissed Meg before and had also seen the pizza man so it wasn’t a completely foreign action for him. He was just so surprised to have Dean react this way towards him that it had frozen him to spot, rendering him unable to move.   
  
Castiel had thought about this moment often. He had knew that he had feelings for Dean which were more than he had felt for any other human but he had always considered them to be a direct result of the ‘profound bond’ which he shared with Dean. It’s what everyone else had always blamed it on, but even since Cas’s hand had connected with Dean’s soul all those years ago in Hell, he knew that they shared something special. Never once had he considered it to be love or even lust – these things did not exist in Heaven, just adoration and obedience towards family and superiors and little else. Not that human emotions were anything like what Castiel had felt in Heaven. It had taken him to become human to comprehend what it was actually like and despite it only being a few short days residing as mortal, Cas had already considered the fact that he and Dean shared something more than platonicity. Even when Dean had turned Cas away, his adoration and longing to be back with the man had been astronomical and now that they were stood here, lips crushed together, Cas realised this for exactly what it was.  
  
He loved Dean. He was in love with Dean. There was no other explanation for it, and given the way that Dean had initiated this gesture, it was apparent that he felt the same way. The realisation coiled in Cas’s stomach, making him nauseous in a way which wasn’t unpleasant. Despite the chilled contrast to his skin, the relentless trembling and the aching which had begun to seep down to his bones, Cas wanted to stay in this moment forever.   
  
When Dean pulled away, Cas felt himself lean forwards a little, chasing Dean’s lips in a hope that they would do it again, but Dean was now too far away. He sniffed back reflexively, not realising until now that his nose had been running and prayed by some miracle that Dean hadn’t noticed; luckily for Cas, he hadn’t.  
  
“Cas, I’m sorry.” Dean flicked his eyes up to meet with Cas’s, genuine sorrow hooding them slightly. They glassed over and Dean felt that he could have cried once more if he had allowed himself, but instead he just swallowed hard, eyes focused on the exhausted face of the angel.  
  
Cas didn’t say anything in response. He just continued to stare at Dean, eyes starting to squint slightly. At first, Dean thought that he was pissed with him for banishing him to this place, the look on his face being entirely reminiscent of his pouty-bitch-face (which he was seriously close to out-doing Sam with) but when he noticed the angel’s lips part and nose twitch slightly, he realised what the expression meant.  
  
_“Eh’tschh!-ktssch!”_ Cas sneezed twice in quick succession into his shoulder, causing Dean to smile once more. He had never heard Cas sneeze before, but they were so quick, quiet and tidy, seemingly so neat and precise – characteristically Castiel.   
  
“Bless y’Cas. You’re not catching a cold, are you?” Dean watched as Cas sniffled a slow recovery after sneezing, pawing at his nose with the sleeve of his shirt, his eyes slightly drooped and darkened from fatigue; it wouldn’t surprise Dean if Cas hadn’t slept at all the previous night – just like he hadn’t. He rubbed Cas’s arms in a gesture to warm him through as he watched Cas turn his eyes back to him. His entire expression was weary, drained, pallid and… human.   
  
“I don’t believe so. This weather is just… difficult to tolerate.” Cas’s voice was low, on the verge of cracking. It concerned Dean, considering the fact that Cas didn’t have his angel mojo anymore; if he did become sick, he wouldn’t be able to just zap himself better. And if he got sick because Dean had allowed him to sleep rough in the rain and snow all night then he’d never forgive himself.   
  
“C’mon.” Dean had pulled his arms away from Cas, wrapping one arm around his shoulders, coaxing him back to the car. “We need to get you out of those clothes.” He suddenly froze at the realisation of what he had just said. He smoothly interjected very quickly with, “And into some warm dry ones, I mean. C’mon, Sam’s waitin’.” Nice save. Barely.  
  
Cas allowed Dean to guide him back across the parking lot to the car, the bitter winds and pelting sleet biting against his skin. He remained silent the entire way there, considering his thoughts carefully. So much had happened in the space of one day. It wasn’t even 24 hours ago that Cas had thought that Dean hated him, but now he was showing signs that he loved him? Contemplating human behaviours was difficult enough when he was an angel but now he had now Grace to assist him, everything was baffling and not one single thing made any sense.  
  
He had a mental battle in his mind about what he was going to ask first; he had questions, so many questions. Once Dean had seated him firmly in the passenger seat and was sitting next to him, Cas spoke up, his voice quivering as a result of his body’s reluctance to cease shivering.  
  
“Dean? Why-… why did you make me leave?”  
  
Dean’s hand paused on the way to putting the key in the ignition. He stared straight ahead, rolling the words around in his mind over and over again. He wanted to respond – he really did. He just didn’t know how. Mainly, because he didn’t have an answer. He didn’t know what to say because he didn’t know himself.   
  
Huffing out a sigh, Dean flicked the keys into the ignition and started the Impala’s engine, immediately turning the heating the vents to full before swerving around and heading back down the highway. He kept his eyes focused straight ahead, intentionally starting to drive before answering so that he had a distraction, an escape. Any excuse to prevent himself from answering right now. This wasn’t the sort of question he could answer on the spot. He needed time, consideration and humility. Telling the truth wasn’t something which came naturally to Dean and for once, he wanted to be honest. He just didn’t know to answer honestly without making himself sound like either a hapless dick or a hopeless romantic.   
  
Instead of answering, he just reached a hand across and squeezed Cas’s thigh gently, a smile directed straight ahead of him.  
  
“I’ll tell you everything later, Cas. But for now, you gotta tell me… what the hell were you doing back there?”


	5. Coat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas’s inexperience with the situation made him more prudent than usual, analysing Dean at every given opportunity, asking questions of how he was feeling, if he needed anything. He could sense the sickness rising and multiplying within Dean, dimming his soul a little, brandishing it to a slightly duller luminescence within him. Cas knew it wasn’t life-threatening, or even serious, but that didn’t stop him from tucking himself up next to Dean and scrutinising at every given opportunity.

He could do this. Of course he could; he was Dean fucking Winchester. This was quite possibly the simplest case any of them had ever actually worked. A haunted museum with the remains of the spirit on display inside. Nothing could be simpler; break in, burn it, break out. There had been so much in the way of complicated shit lately, what with the demons and Metatron and falling angels. It felt like the apocalypse all over again, only worse and more in depth. So many times he had wished that their lives could go back to being simple, working cute little cases of rogue spirits, Wendigos and vanirs. Things that were easy kill and stayed dead when they were ganked. And they seemed to be have been granted a break for what was possibly the first time in their lives. His wish was seemingly granted.  
  
Though of course, they were the Winchesters. Whenever they were actually granted any form of reprieve, something always came along to throw a spanner smack bang in the middle of the proverbial works. They kill Lilith, the apocalypse starts. They manage to  _stop_  the apocalypse, Sam gets trapped in Lucifer’s cage. They kill Dick Roman, Dean and Cas get sucked into Purgatory. For every good thing, it was always consequenced with something about twenty times worse. One step forwards, 900 steps back. Every single time. And this scenario was no different. A sweet, simple case comes along, and Dean had to catch a fucking-  
  
 _“hh’RRSSHHhh’iu!”_  
  
-cold.  
  
“Bless you, De-”  
  
“Jesus, Cas, can you drop it for five fucking minutes? You’re like a dog with a bone.”  
  
Sam shot a surprised glance to his brother from the passenger seat as he barked at Cas before the angel barely had chance to speak. Geez, it was like watching an old married couple squabble over the most trivial of things. And it really  _was_  like watching an old married; both of them had been skirting around their feelings for far too long now and Sam seemed to be the only one who could see it. The shifty side-glances, the mentally undressing eyes, the touches that lingered just a few seconds too long. They were in love and everyone around them knew it – except each other. It was both tragic and hilarious at the same time and there had been more than one occasion where Sam had just wanted to scream it in their faces but so far, he had managed to restrain himself. Though if this petty bickering kept up, he would have to interject and say  _something_.  
  
The rigmarole had been ongoing for the entirety of the journey; Cas clucking over Dean’s condition and Dean being… well, Dean. They had all known that Dean was coming down with something the second the most meagre symptoms started. Hell, there wasn’t a single person within a 2 mile vicinity that didn’t know Dean was coming down with something, given the way he had sulked and bitched for hours and hours about how ‘this was the worst fucking timing ever’ and how ‘he felt like he’d been deep-throating razor blades’ and how ‘he felt like he’d been stomped on the head by an angry bear’ (and given the unorthodox nature of the last reference, he probably had a low-grade fever brewing, too).  
  
Cas, however, remained straight-faced, doe-eyes boring into Dean’s reflection in the rear view mirror from the backseat. He had never encountered Dean before when he was ill. Half-dead, yes. Physically injured, most definitely. But illness seemed to be something which didn’t affect either Winchester very often. Not naturally, anyway.  
  
Cas’s inexperience with the situation made him more prudent than usual, analysing Dean at every given opportunity, asking questions of how he was feeling, if he needed anything. He could sense the sickness rising and multiplying within Dean, dimming his soul a little, brandishing it to a slightly duller luminescence within him. Cas knew it wasn’t life-threatening, or even serious, but that didn’t stop him from tucking himself up next to Dean and scrutinising at every given opportunity. Which is exactly what he was doing now, shuffling up so he was just inches away from the back of Dean’s head.  
  
“Your temperature is elevated.”  
  
“No shit, Sherlock.” Dean squirmed a little in his seat, feeling the soft hush of Cas’s breath against the nape of his neck. It tickled slightly, but more than that, it felt pretty good. Really good, actually. Too good for Dean’s comfort. He slapped a hand there as though swatting a bug and rubbed a little, hunching in on himself as he huffed, punctuating the statement with a sniff.  
  
Cas cocked his head as he squinted at the back of Dean’s head, sitting back a little; there were so many things that he didn’t understand about Dean’s statement but before he could ask even one measly question, Dean began to cough into the sleeve of his jacket, cursing under his breath after the outburst had finished.  
  
“Ugh, Cas, can’t you use your mojo to get rid of this thing?” Dean’s tone was pleading, whiny, verging on desperate as he wiped at his tearing eyes with his sleeve, sniffing periodically, each one becoming wetter and more congested.  
  
“I can’t heal you. My abilities are ineffective against viruses.”  
  
“What, so you’re like, an angel-antibiotic?”  
  
“Excuse me?”  
  
“He means that your powers won’t work against viruses, Cas. Antibiotics only serve purpose against infections.” Sam interjected before Dean could snap something else sarcastic and sassy. And from the bitchy look Dean shot across to Sam, he had a really good quip ready to retort to Cas but the moment had now passed. Sam gave a smug, strained smile in Dean’s direction before sitting back against the seat, self-satisfaction settling in at the victory of halting a potential domestic argument in the car. As amusing as it was to watch them bicker like a couple of old women, there was only so much that he could take in one car journey. And an hour in, Sam was already exhausted by them both.  
  
Cas just turned to face out of the window, muttering “Oh,” under his breath; he kept flitting his eyes back to the rear view mirror whenever Dean sneezed, sniffed or coughed but he stayed silent for the remainder of the journey. Dean didn’t appear to notice, or if he did, he paid it no attention. Sam found the whole ordeal exasperating but quite endearing; Cas watching over Dean like a fussing mother and Dean ruffling his feathers whenever Cas became a little  _too_  intimate for his liking. Sam snickered to himself but he didn’t speak, relishing the silence in the car, save for Dean’s occasional snotty outbursts.  
  
By the time they arrived at the museum, night was falling. The rich darkness of the sky was barely kissing the horizon, forming streaks of lavender and garnet against the encompassing blue-black shroud of night.  
  
The area was quiet, save for one security guard traipsing the parameter. He was easy to dismiss as they shimmied their way silently around to the back of the building. Remaining silent and undetected was of utmost importance and Dean had to force himself to suppress a cough more than once.  
  
Stopping by a large window at the rear, Sam fumbled in their duffel for a flashlight while Dean gasped for breath, supporting his weight by placing his hands on his knees. Cas eyed him with an air of confusion tainted with concern. He felt so useless at not being able to rid Dean of this; whilst it wasn’t life threatening, it hardly looked pleasant judging by the way Dean gasped and snorted, apparently finding it increasingly difficult to breathe.  
  
Cas was about to place a hand on Dean’s shoulder in a bid to comfort him or steady him or-.. whatever it was that people initiated physical contact for. Whatever it was, it seemed like a relevant thing to do at the time but just as Cas’s fingers twitched in preparation to move, Sam flicked on a flashlight and pointed it straight towards Dean's face, making him hiss through his teeth and raise an arm across his face, recoiling back slightly.  
  
“Sam! Shit, little warning next time?” Whisper-shouting, Dean kept one arm raised before his eyes, swatting a hand in the general vicinity of Sam in a hope to knock the light away. It was blinding, aggravating his headache, not to mention aggravating something-  
  
 _“h’kn **XXT!**  ‘ **KNGXT-!** ”_  
  
Dropping the flashlight instantly, Sam’s eyes widened in panic as he brother fired off a couple of strangled sneezes into his shoulder. At least he had managed to stifle them, but any noise was unwarranted, risking being heard by the spirit, or worse, the security guard. Leaning around slightly to survey the surroundings, Sam exhaled a sharp huff of relief when he realised they were still alone. Dean winced as he suppressed the expulsions, earning him another fretful look from Cas. He growled low and deep in his throat from a combination of both pain and annoyance as he snatched the light from Sam and steadied himself before the window.  
  
Usually, picking locks on most things was a cakewalk for either Winchester. But when suffering from a steadily increasing fever when the temperature suddenly drops to minus fucking fifty (or so it felt) it was exceedingly difficult to prevent trembling. And that’s exactly how Dean’s hands were betraying him in that moment; just as he got the pick in place -  _clank -_  his hand spasmed violently, causing him to knock the pick up or across or down or almost drop it on the floor completely. Sam was completely unaware, standing a few feet away watching for the guard to come. But Cas was watching his every move – as always – and nudged himself closer and closer, eyes wide and curious as he actually clipped the back of Dean’s boots with his toes. The unexpected contact caused Dean to startle, dropping the pick to the floor with a high  _clink_. He gasped in a short breath, clearly spooked by the unexpectedness of Cas so close to him and was about to speak before Cas beat him to it.  
  
“Are you cold?”  
  
“No, Cas, I’m shivering for the benefit of my health.”  
  
“Oh. … Wait, how would it benefit your health if you are not cold?“  
  
Dean just rolled his eyes before crouching down to grab the pick, flashlight tucked beneath his chin. His shitty mood was parallel to how shitty he felt and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t help the sourness from spilling over and tainting every word he spoke. Which made him opt to just not say anything, continuing to work on the window as he snuffled as quietly as he could into his shoulder. This fucking sucked. It would have been manageable if he knew he had free reign to cough and sneeze and sniff as often as he would like to, but the restriction on making any sound seemed to intensify each feeling; his throat scratched, his nose itched and was threatening to spill over at any given moment. The sniffing furthered the irritation in his nose which in turn caused him to swallow which aggravated his throat. It was a physical struggle to hold everything back and Dean found himself coughing as lightly as he could whilst clamping his lips together to smother as much of the sound as he could. It hurt like hell but at least they wouldn’t be spotted.  
  
After a few more minutes of working on the window, Dean finally heard the lock in the window click as it jumped open an inch or two. Muttering “Gotcha,” under his breath, he was vaguely aware of the rustling coming from behind him but he assumed it was Sam just making his way over. Upon turning on his heels, Dean practically walked face first right into Cas, blinking back as their faces almost touched.  
  
“Cas, what have I told you about-“ His sentence was cut short as he felt something whoosh around him, causing him to flinch downwards slightly. Upon opening his eyes, Dean noticed that Cas looked different somehow. He couldn’t quite work it out until..  
  
Cas had wrapped his coat around Dean. Dean was wearing Cas’s trench coat. That's what was different; Cas wasn't swathed in tan cotton any longer.  
  
“Cas, what the hell-“  
  
“You are unwell. You will recover quicker if your body temperature is consistent.”  
  
Dean eyed Sam who was smirking behind Cas, revelling in the moment. Dean shot him a bitch-glare before his eyes were drawn back to Cas, who was donning his typical straight-featured, parted lips, squinted eyes look which Dean had always found to be… goofy. Definitely goofy. Not hot or attractive, not even nice. Just goofy. Nothing more.  
  
Whilst he felt like a tool (and probably looked like one too) Dean had to admit that the coat was definitely helping his shivering. The sleeves only came down to just above his wrists but the lining still harboured a lingering warmth from Cas’s body heat, lulling Dean into a sense of comfort which he was unable – and unwilling – to pull himself away from.  
  
“Thanks, Cas.” He was too tired and too blegh to even be bothered to come up with any kind of rebuttal. It earned him a stifled snigger from his brother but he just tripped him when he walked past, which made him feel much better. He would have preferred if Sam had actually fallen over but the visual of seeing his long limbs sprawling about to keep himself upright restored some of his spirit. “Alright. Let’s get this over with.”  
  
Edging his way to the window, Dean shone the flashlight inside the museum before beginning to squeeze himself through the space he had created in the window. He felt something snag on a loose nail and upon looking down, he realised that he was still wearing Cas's coat. He had forgotten about it already, despite only been wearing it for a handful of minutes. He smiled to himself, despite knowing that he looked ridiculous. His smile was short-lived, however, when without warning, a sudden urge to sneeze fluttered up in his nose and down his throat as instant panic rushed over him; shoulder, elbow and sleeve all meant that he would bombard Cas's coat with germs and whilst he wasn't certain that angels could even catch colds, he didn't want to take that risk anyway. He found himself steepling his hands over his nose and mouth as the sensation and he muffled as best he could  _"hh'tnXXT!-' **NNGXT**! hh-... hh'TSHHT!"_  into his palms. Perching himself on the ledge just inside the window, he waited for his brother and angel to catch up, sniffling into one hand as he shone the light around the interior with the other.

Cas was about to follow Dean when Sam gripped him lightly by the elbow, halting him momentarily.  
  
“Hey.” Cas instinctively turned around, his gaze meeting with Sam’s. “Do me a favour? His fever is gonna climb tonight. It always does and he won’t let me anywhere near him, so… will you…” Sam shuffled around awkwardly, shifting from foot to foot, as though he was asking Cas to hold his hand or something. “Will you sleep in his room with him? Y’know, just keep your eye on him.” Sam felt his cheeks flush red; it wasn’t determined if it was embarrassment for himself in asking an angel to watch his brother or contact embarrassment at having to play matchmaker. Either way, it was uncomfortable as hell. But it needed to be done.  
  
Cas barely even responded, just continued to gaze at Sam with that enrapturing cosmic stare that he always wore whenever he was confused or contemplating.  Sam often considered  the possibility that he did it deliberately in order to make himself appear less threatening, almost like a small child is blessed with cute features so people will instinctively care for them.  
  
After a moment’s consideration, Cas’s face twitched into a slight smile of reassurance.  
  
“Yes. I will happily sleep with Dean tonight, Sam.”  
  
Sam returned the smile; it was all he could do to prevent himself from cracking up into hysterics at Cas’s choice of wording. He offered a slight nod of thanks and clasped Cas’s shoulder once before sauntering on towards the open window.  
  
Dean, meanwhile, was perched on the edge of the windowsill. He had caught the very last part of the conversation between Sam and Cas – namely, what Cas had said. He had missed the context entirely but he had heard “…happily sleep with Dean tonight”. His eyes had widened initially, predominantly out of shock, but he soon found the corners of his mouth snagging upwards into a wry smile at the prospect. He wiped it clear, however, when his brother sidled up beside him, shortly followed by Cas. Letting them in, they set to work on finishing this case. He hated to admit it, but if he was looking forward to getting in bed to alleviate how shitty he felt before, now he practically couldn’t wait.


	6. Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Above everything, Dean had taught Castiel what it was to be human. He had taught him what it meant to show bravery, courage, patience, compassion and humility. He had taught him how to empathise, laugh and feel. Cas sometimes wondered if Dean would be the one to show him love one day...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this one got carried away with me xDD I have more written but I have split it into 2 parts so that I don't get any more behind with posting these as I am already xD part 2 is kinda already half written and will hopefully be posted at some time today/tomorrow.

There was once a time when Castiel had known all the rules of Heaven and abided by them like a true soldier. It was as though they were ingrained into him, less like the physical carvings on the Winchester’s ribcages and more like a small component of his essence, one tiny fragment of him that made up a whole. It was a part of who he was and for so long, he truly believed that it would be all he ever was. He was so self-assured and complacent that he could never foresee anything which would hold more importance to him that his post directly beneath his father. Being the headstrong fledgling that he was, lessons taught by his brothers, he could not see any thing - in heaven or otherwise – that would compromise his true place there. He had served Heaven since before the Earth existed, blindly following orders and relishing his rightful place in the garrison. He had been a drone for so long, it was all he knew, the prospect of not being given orders a mildly terrifying one.   
  
But then Dean happened.  
  
Castiel knew from the second his hand clasped around Dean’s soul that he was no standard human; he was so much more. He was complex, compassionate, virtuous and solicitous; unlike anyone – or any _thing_ – else Castiel had been in contact with previously, on Earth, in Heaven… or anywhere in the universe. All other humans had an air of selfishness about them, their primary objectives to multiply and survive. Dean, however, had no shred of selfishness within him; his life was dedicated to saving others and the one act of damning his soul to hell so that his brother could live illuminated his soul in a way which Castiel had not seen before. It made it bright, beautiful and exceptionally rare. Heaven had not been wrong when they referred to Dean as a “righteous man” and the beguiling lustre Dean’s soul was emitting seemingly took a hold of Cas and refused to let go. It made Castiel guard Dean’s soul with everything he had as he ascended out of Hell – and Cas’s grip had not relented since that moment.  
  
After their ascent, Dean Winchester had taught Castiel many things, from physical skills like hunting right through to emotions. There was once a time when Castiel had been a self-righteous “dick”, as Dean had once called him, a stranger to human emotions, believing in his true purpose and mission and disregarding everything else. Upon reflection, he could now see the error in his ways and had moved forwards from them. Humans no longer exacerbated him the ways they used to and he now realised that the path he had chosen was not forced to be the correct one. Thanks to Dean, he had realised that he could and had made grave errors in judgement, reflecting upon them and learning from them, forcing himself to move forwards, lest he live in a downward spiral in his past. There had been more than one occasion where Dean had told Cas that if he got knocked down, he should just get back up again – Sam had passed comment about it being a reference for a song or a movie or something but the weight those words carried had stuck with Cas since and he often found himself repeating them to himself whenever things got difficult. And things were always difficult.  
  
Dean had also shown him the true meaning of the word ‘family’ and that it was okay to believe in something which goes against everything he had fought to defend for centuries. Cas had learned to accept the fact that he had rebelled – on numerous occasions – for a purpose which he believed him. Dean had taught him that this wasn’t exactly okay but it was justifiable when it came to his judgement.   
  
Dean had shown Cas freedom, something which he had never had in the millions of years he had resided in heaven and even when things got tough or scary when facing this nuance, Dean had been right there to guide and comfort him through it. Team Free Will had been going strong for a few years now and whilst Cas still felt sometimes sceptical about the concept, with Dean’s guidance, he had eventually conceded to the ideal.  
  
But above all of this, Dean had taught Castiel what it was to be human. He had taught him what it meant to show bravery, courage, patience, compassion and humility. He had taught him how to empathise, laugh and _feel_. Cas sometimes wondered if Dean would be the one to show him love one day but he never allowed himself to dwell on the thought. It wasn’t that he didn’t think about love – he thought about it often – he just wasn’t confident that associating the emotion with Dean was necessarily constructive. Castiel enjoyed considering being loved one day, sharing that intimacy and bond with just one person, living purely for the protection of that person and that person only. That was usually when his thoughts reverted back to Dean because that was exactly the dynamic which they shared. He kept it to himself, however; Dean was a difficult person to read and Castiel could not be sure if his feelings were reciprocated or whether it was unrequited.  Maybe he would find out one day and maybe he wouldn’t. It didn’t really matter; he had enough fulfilment from the platonic relationship he had with Dean already. Anything more than this would be greatly welcomed but unnecessary.   
  
Despite all the things that Dean had taught Cas, there were still many mysteries surrounding humans which he had not yet learned. From the complexity of why there was still a monastery in a lot of countries to the traditions of Christmas, many things still eluded the ex-angel. Though Dean had recently tried explaining the latter to Cas. He had tried explaining many things with varying levels of success but Cas had really tried with the whole Christmas thing; it was evident from the moment Thanksgiving was over (which was another baffling concept to Castiel) that the Christmas holiday was important to Dean.   
  
It was late December and Dean had gone into some detail about it being traditional to buy the people someone cares for gifts. Cas was aware of the tale of the three wise men traveling to Bethlehem (which was highly inaccurate) but struggled to comprehend why presents needed to be purchased for other people. Dean had just kept shrugging and repeating that it was “just tradition” but Cas wasn’t convinced. He eventually conceded when Dean had looked him straight in the eyes with that typical pleading look he only saved for situations when he wanted something out of it and spoke very gently: “I dunno, it’s just… I guess it’s just a symbol of affection, showing someone you thought about them and how much they mean to you.”   
  
This gave enough information for Cas to decide that he would obtain gifts for both brothers but it wasn’t as easy as it had sounded. The first challenge was sneaking out of the bunker to get something for them without them seeing him; if they did, they would want to know where he was going and the gig would be up. According to Dean, it was meant to be a surprise for the other person. They weren’t meant to know what was bought for them, which should be simple enough if he managed to find a way to go somewhere. If this had happened a year or two prior then he could have just zapped himself somewhere and back again in a matter of seconds. Oh, how he missed his wings sometimes.   
  
When he finally found a means of escape (by making up something about needing to go to see a pharmacist about a specific dermatological problem), he was faced with his second challenge: what to buy. Trawling around the stores, there was nothing that he saw which would convey his feelings towards Dean, which was the whole point from what Dean had said. Had Castiel still had his celestial abilities, he would have collected the residual remnants of a shooting star, a segment of the moon’s core, a keepsake from the kitchen in Mary Winchester’s heaven. Any and all of these things seemed appropriate and accurately portrayed what Cas felt for the hunter; that he was everything to him. Maybe it was lucky that all of these items were unobtainable, given that it could have overwhelmed Dean about Cas’s true feelings towards him – Dean didn’t really ‘ _do’_ feelings all that much, of that, Cas was certain – but looking through the store window, nothing felt apropos to the situation.  
  
Sam was simple enough to buy for – portraying and channelling his emotions towards the younger hunter into a waffle iron was almost too easy. But idling through the store, drifting down one aisle and then the next, it was impossible to decide what could portray his feelings purposefully.  
  
There were several items which would have served a practical purpose for Dean – knives, kitchenware (because living on take out and ready meals was only fine for so long), aftershave. All seemed acceptable but nothing was satisfactory. And he wanted to go beyond satisfactory; he wanted it to be perfect.  
  
After spending far too long traipsing the aisles and having a lengthy discussion with a store clerk about what kinds of things someone like Dean would appreciate, Cas left the store with Sam’s waffle iron, an assortment of items for Dean including a new sound system, crystal whiskey tumblers and an anagrammed pistol holster, along with the clerk’s phone number crudely scribbled on the receipt (which Cas had no idea what to do with – maybe he could give that to Dean as well. As much as he despised the idea, maybe getting Dean a date would be one of the best gifts) Castiel headed back to the bunker. He had been cajoled into buying a wide variation of wrapping paper and bows and calligraphy pens and tags so they could be wrapped properly. He was hesitant to purchase them to begin with, but after being reassured by the clerk that to not attend to these gifts in the proper manner would be a crime, Cas had conceded. Dean had never mentioned wrapping them. It didn’t make sense why you could want to postpone the surprise by a mere few seconds and cause further inconvenience to the recipient but after seeing varying displays of colourful boxes neatly wrapped and placed beneath trees, Cas accepted his fate, regardless of how futile the process was to him.  
  
Having to manoeuvre the gifts inside undetected was problematic but doable. Luckily, when Cas arrived back, both brothers were occupied in the kitchen with something – he could hear the low vibrato of their voices from the entryway – so he managed to huddle himself away quickly to his room, gifts tucked precariously beneath his arms. He had only just entered his room when he heard the thudding footfalls of someone approaching; given the heaviness but sparsely paced strides, Cas concluded it was Sam. Dean’s were more rushed, quickened, like everything he was doing was rushed. Panicking as he gazed down upon the array of bags that scattered his bed, he quickly grabbed them and hauled them into the closet, shutting the doors just as Sam knocked lightly on the door.  
  
“Cas?”   
  
Turning around quickly, Cas perched himself on the edge of the bed, trying his best to look as nonchalant as possible but actually looking more suspicious by doing nothing at all. He muttered “Come in,” as Sam pushed the door open, quizzical eyes staring into him as the younger Winchester surveyed the room for a moment.  
  
“Hey, uh-.. dinner’s almost ready, so if you wanna…” Sam didn’t finish the sentence, instead just narrowed his eyes and focused on Cas before taking one last sweep of the room again. He was suspicious, of this Cas could tell. Sam was very suspicious by nature anyway and the signs were clear to read even from his place on the bed. Cas just nodded his head yet remained unmoving, stuck in an awkward staring match with Sam for a few seconds before he was left alone.


	7. Drinks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Alright, Dean. You’re up. Truth or dare?” With every fibre in his body, Sam prayed that he picked dare. He didn’t have to worry about Cas hearing him – not being an angel anymore and such like. Which was a pretty fucked up thing to think. But whatever, he was drunk. It’d be fine.
> 
> ..’ll take dare.”
> 
> Yes! Yes, yes, yes! Perfect!
> 
> Clearing his throat and sitting forwards, elbows and forearms flat against the table, Sam eyed both Cas and Dean with the most serious stare he could muster – which actually looked like a startled moose in headlights in reality, but in his mind, he was being totally serious.
> 
> “Dean. I dare you… to kiss Castiel.”

It was Christmas Eve – not that anyone would have guessed, looking around the room. There was a small array of poorly wrapped gifts in the corner, but that was about the only indication there was that it was Christmas. Dean had trailed some tinsel around one of the taxidermy moose heads on the wall but it had long since fallen to the floor and none of them bothering to have the energy to fling it back up there.  
  
It was the first time in a long time that they had all been together to celebrate a holiday; whilst there was still definitely case waiting for them, it could easily wait until the next day. It seemed simple enough and people weren’t dying, so they allowed themselves one night off in the years they had spent together. They had earned that much; that was their jurisdiction.  
  
At present, Sam, Dean and Castiel were sat around the large, wooden table in the library. Sam was sat at one side with Cas and Dean together opposite and as the day (and the whiskey consumption) had progressed, their proximities had gotten closer and closer until Dean was practically cradling Cas, his arm resting lazily across the back of Cas’s chair. Cas had either not noticed, or if he had, he didn’t care. They had been drinking steadily since mid-afternoon and by the time the sun had set, they were all feeling the effects of the alcohol, even Cas. He had been drunk before – both brothers had seen it – but never in such a relaxed atmosphere. Every time Cas had had liquor before had been just before the world ended or something else equally as sinister. Sitting here with the Winchesters and sipping idly was actually really enjoyable. He understood now why so many humans would partake in this activity purely for recreation.  
  
After the third round of Cards Against Humanity (which would have killed them all if irony was poison), Dean clanked his glass down on the table with a drunken kind of vigour which he usually adorned whenever he got tipsy.  
  
“Okay, this is getting lame.” Dean slurred his words a little as he spoke, his elbow propped on the table as he swayed slightly, clearly trying to add emphasis as one does whilst drunk, but just making his appearance seem comic-like. “Let’s play ‘I have never’.”  
  
Sam groaned inwardly as Dean spoke. “Nah, I don’t wanna play that. Besides, between us, there’s not much that we haven’t really done.” Sam’s voice held more sobriety than Dean’s but it was still jarred with a slurred edge, the effects of the booze having not quite eluded him completely.  
  
Dean pondered Sam’s words for a moment, picking his glass back up and swilling it around, sploshing a little over the sides of the glass with drunken clumsiness. “Yeah, you’re probably right. Don’t wanna bring the mood down too much.” After another second’s pause, Dean’s head shot up to stare at the other two, eyes bright as though the greatest idea he had ever had came to him in that moment. Though Sam concluded that it was almost definitely not the greatest idea he had ever had. Although, given the marvels of some of Dean’s past ideas, it actually probably could be.  
  
“Why don’t we play truth or dare?” As Dean spoke, Sam’s eyebrows raised a little but he didn’t rebuke the idea which indicated to Dean that he was game. Cas, however, was just sat revelling in the conversation. Even without the alcohol, he would have struggled to comprehend what the brothers were even talking – well, arguing – about, but whilst inebriated, it made it nigh on impossible. His face remained vacant, staring into Dean with semi-glassed eyes and flushed cheeks from the liquor. Dean just cocked his eyebrows as though to wordlessly ask Cas if he was going to play.  
  
“What are the rules?” Cas exchanged looks between both brothers, genuine curiosity apparent. Sam just smiled into his glass as Dean clapped the hand that wasn’t behind Cas onto his chest. It startled the ex-angel slightly but he soon relaxed after the initial shock of the gesture abated.  
  
“Okay, all y’do is like, I ask you if you want ‘truth’ or ‘dare’, alright? So you pick one. Y’pick ‘truth’, I ask you a question and you _can’t_ lie. It’s like, illegal. If you pick ‘dare’, I dare you to do somethin’. And you gotta do it. No matter what it is. Alright?”  
  
Cas cocked his head as his eyes locked onto Dean’s, their faces mere inches apart. Cas could smell the lingering whiff of whiskey on Dean’s breath as they just stared. Sam snorted as he got a sudden twinge of déjà vu; he remembered the first time that they had begun to look at each other in that way, mentally undressing each other. It wasn’t definitive that that’s what they were doing, but to Sam, it was impossible to see it as anything else. Ever since the apocalypse days, he had felt something between them that wasn’t quite normal. At first, he just thought it was because Dean kept fucking up and Cas was pissed, trying to right his wrongs (which wasn’t actually a million miles away from the truth), but as time passed, Sam noticed all the signs of them crushing. Dean would jump to his defence whenever Sam made the slightest innuendo in regards to their relationship and Cas would just disappear; it was like being at high school all over again. There had been more than one occasion that Sam was convinced that he was going to walk in on them kissing. Luckily, that hadn’t happened yet. But it was only a matter of time.  
  
After having a lengthy session of mind-bonking, Cas eventually nodded and turned away from Dean, grabbing his drink and taking a long swig. After hearing no objections from Sam (but he was now fighting a losing battle against a fit of the giggles), Dean grabbed his chair and squared it to the table, keeping as close as he could to Cas without physically touching him – although their legs were under the table and Sam couldn’t see that so it was fine.  
  
“Alright! Let’s get this party started. I’ll go first. Sam? Truth or dare?” Dean smirked as he eyed his brother, pouring his glass so it was almost full and refilling Cas’s in the process.  
  
“Um.. dare.”  
  
Dean surveyed the room for a moment, speaking as he did so. “Okay, I dare you to… summon Crowley.” Cas stiffened at Dean’s side at the mention of the King of Hell’s name whereas Sam just widened his eyes, only mildly surprised.  
  
“Let’s make a rule. No supernatural shit. Period. Alright?”  
  
Dean just folded his arms across his chest as he huffed fractiously, muttering “Boring,” under his breath as he inhaled yet more whiskey.  
  
“Alright. I dare you… to call the pizza place and just chant an exorcism down the phone.” A wry little smile tracked Dean’s features as Sam rolled his eyes skyward.  
  
“I thought we said no supernatural shit?”  
  
“Aw, c’mon Sammy. That’s hardly strenuous.”  
  
Sam sighed as he chugged the last dregs of his drink down in one and grabbed his mobile.  
  
“Fine. But if the cops show up here, _you’re_ dealing with them.”  
  
The game continued for some time, all of them eventually relaxing into it and enjoying it more than they initially thought. Even Cas began laughing when Dean had to kiss the aforementioned moose head on the wall – so much so that he almost fell off of his chair, but Sam could see the look in his eyes which screamed ‘ _why can’t that be me?_ ’ And that’s when Sam got the idea.  
  
After Cas had just finished telling them about how he had _really_ felt about the experience with April (and Sam could see Dean’s blood pressure rising with each and every word – which, honestly, he’d be lying if he said that wasn’t his intention), Sam sat back in his chair, still stifling his laughs at Dean’s sour-puss expression but allowing his face to break out into a wide smile. He couldn’t help it; he was having far too much fun with this.  
  
“Alright, Dean. You’re up. Truth or dare?” With every fibre in his body, Sam prayed that he picked dare. He didn’t have to worry about Cas hearing him – not being an angel anymore and such like. Which was a pretty fucked up thing to think. But whatever, he was drunk. It’d be fine.  
  
"..’ll take dare.”  
  
_Yes! Yes, yes, yes! Perfect!_  
  
Clearing his throat and sitting forwards, elbows and forearms flat against the table, Sam eyed both Cas and Dean with the most serious stare he could muster – which actually looked like a startled moose in headlights in reality, but in his mind, he was being totally serious.  
  
“Dean. I dare you… to kiss Castiel.”  
  
There was an immediate silence as soon as he had spoken the words. It wasn’t like a normal, natural silence like if there was just a lull in conversation; this was a deep-seated, heavy silence full of animosity. Dean and Cas stared at him with the exact same expression on their faces; eyes squinted, heads cocked though Dean’s was to the left and Cas’s to the right. They looked like a pair of spaniels that had just been called. Sam just shrugged, holding his hands up in mock-defence.  
  
“What? C’mon, you gotta do it, I dared you!”  
  
“You didn’t dare me-“  
  
“Shut up, Cas, you’re not helping.”  
  
“But-“  
  
“Just sh!”  
  
The whole exchange was amazing for Sam to watch. He could practically feel the heat of embarrassment and coyness radiating off of the both of them as they shuffled uncomfortably next to each other, squirming around in their seats. Sam could see Dean was simultaneously trying to scuttle away from Cas whilst sidling up closer to him. Their eyes kept flitting from each other’s to their laps, not being able to sustain eye contact for more than a few seconds. It was almost embarrassing to watch.  
  
“Oh come on, it’s not like either of you haven’t kissed worse.”  
  
This earned Sam a completely murderous glance from the pair of them but all he could do was snicker into his glass. He was being a total shit and he knew it, but in his mind, this way payback for all the times Dean had gatecrashed Sam whenever he got close to playing tonsil-tennis with someone. It was only now that Sam realised just why Dean had done it for so many years; this was actually a lot of fun.  
  
After recovering from almost smiting Sam with their eyes, Dean and Cas turned back to face each other. Both of them were swaying a little – mostly from the booze but probably from nervousness, too. That’s what Sam concluded anyway, but what did he know? He was drunk. It took all his energy not to start chanting _Do it! Do it! Do it!_ While banging on the table, but as immature as he had acted that night, he wasn’t fucking 5. Besides, it looked like things were about to start getting good; their faces were now centimetres away, lips almost brushing together. Ugh, it was so obvious that both of them wanted to do this. Sam was half-tempted to call a cupid to come down and fucking shoot the both of them. There were several more seconds of them just… hovering, looking at each other before flitting their eyes down and back up. It was like watching a crappy love scene from a low-budget romantic movie. It was getting ridiculous.  
  
“Oh my god, will you just _do it_ already?” The raised tone of Sam’s voice didn’t deter either of them – they didn’t even break eye contact – before Dean finally, _finally_ , closed his eyes and leaned in. Smiling to himself, Sam leaned himself back in his chair, drink in hand.  
  
_Mission accomplished._  
  
Although, he had to admit to feeling a little weird for staring, given that this was his brother and an ex-angel of the Lord. But, hey, weirder things had happened.  
  
It just wasn’t ending though; it was like watching open heart surgery on the television. It was kinda gruesome to look at but also exceptionally fascinating. It was only when Dean opened his mouth and Sam caught a glimpse of tongue that he decided enough was enough.  
  
Be careful what you fucking wish for, Winchester.  
  
He couldn’t determine if it was from the display before him or the rivers of alcohol sloshing around in his gut, but Sam suddenly found himself feeling queasy, the act of standing throwing him off balance and he had to reach his arm out to grab the edge of the table to steady himself. He had to go sleep it off before he either passed out or puked – or he was kept awake by other unwelcome noises from the next room across. The thought caused him to shudder as he passed his brother and the angel still exchanging saliva. He patted Dean on the shoulder as he passed, his way of saying ‘good job’.  
  
“..’m goin’ to bed. Have fun, you two.” Sam jibed as he walked down the hall to his room. Despite his mockery and taunting, he couldn’t deny that there was a definitive warmth seeping across his chest that wasn’t caused by the alcohol. This had been a long time coming and it gave Sam an odd sense of emotion to finally consider the fact that his brother could be happy. For once in their life. But now he really needed to sleep before he started sobbing like Dean when watching Titanic.  
  
Meanwhile, back in the library, Sam had been completely right; this had definitely been a long time coming. Despite their initial reluctance, once the kiss had started, it was difficult to pull away. Neither of them were aware, but they had both fantasized about this moment often. They both knew that their feelings towards each other were not exactly ‘normal’ or ‘platonic’ but neither considered them to be in love. Not that either of them thought that strongly just yet but it was definitely something which they were beginning to consider.  
  
Dean had been in love before; Cas hadn’t. It was a new, exciting experience for the ex-angel but also something which Dean would cherish for as long as he could manage it. The booze definitely helped with the action, giving Dean the confidence to French it up and Cas reacted to his invitation with a surprising finesse. Dean knew Cas had kissed people before but he never actually considered that Cas would be a _good kisser_. It was as much a surprise as was Cas’s tongue when it traced back into Dean’s mouth with expert precision.  
  
It was that which made it all the more difficult to pull away. They had both been aware of Sam saying something and leaving them alone for them to finish… or continue, or whatever. After what felt like only a few fleeting seconds, Dean pulled back; not that he wanted to but the booze was weaving a dizzying wave of vertigo when he had his eyes closed and he didn’t really want his first kiss with Cas to be shortly followed by him shouting into the plantpot.  
  
Dean kept his eyes closed for a moment as their lips parted, and when he opened them, he saw hazed blue locked on to his features. Cas’s expression still had that unmistakable, unreadable expression on it but it made Dean break out into a smile and huff out a sigh of a laugh as we wiped at the corner of his mouth with his thumb, taking Cas’s hand with his free one. It may have been the liquor talking, but Dean found a new wave of confidence – and lust – and gave Cas his best flirting-smile, the one with the accentuated dimples.  
  
“So… y’know, you can sleep in my room. Tonight. If ya want. I don’t mind.” Dean shrugged, looking away from Cas’s face, his confidence meandering but when he felt Cas squeeze his hand, he forced himself to look back. And the look on Cas’s face was one which he hadn’t seen in a long time – maybe even ever. He was smiling in a way which crinkled his eyes, revealing only his top set of teeth. It was almost awe-inspiring, leaving Dean momentarily frozen and just staring. Staring at Cas. Finally. Giving his hand a firmer squeeze, Cas spoke up, his voice low in his throat.  
  
“Yes, Dean. I would like that very much.”  
  
Nothing further needed to be said. With that, they stood, making their way down the hall to Dean’s room.  
  
Sam’s snoring could be heard even from Dean’s room; it was probably a good job that he was already asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I'm slowly catching up xD  
> The part 2s of the other ones will be posted soon, honest.  
> Also, it's 12.30am so this is probably full of mistakes because I haven't re read it so apologies ^^"

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so this latest one ended up being kinda long xD I split it into 2 parts so there is a continuation of this to follow at some point xDD


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